What a carry on for a bloody go back to work fit note!

Dr Garland wanted to see me this week before the sick note ran out to discuss the Propopanol and how I’m doing on them. You may remember, my vertigo migraines are stress induced and these pills are there to slow me down in the hopes I don’t get carried away.

Now getting an appointment with him proved impossible this side of July 16th but I did manage to get a phone consultation. We spoke Monday afternoon.

In all, it took about 5 minutes and we agreed I’d go back to work — I’d been feeling shit but not in need of the emergency nausea pill and I was definitely slowed down on the Propopanol. To be honest, I don’t mind being off but I do like to have money, and it’s always better to try and fail than give up outright. Back to work Thursday. He then said something about a note and that was that.

On Tuesday evening I suddenly thought ‘note?’ (delayed reaction) and so rang the surgery on Wednesday morning to see if there was a note for me to collect.

There was, and so I said I’d be in during the afternoon to collect it.

“We’ll see you then,” the receptionist said.

No. I turn up and the surgery was closed from 1230 for training. You would think the receptionist would’ve known this, but there you have it.

Thursday comes along and I go to work, and I tell them that I’m here but I haven’t got my note, and that I didn’t know what this note was about because I’d never had a note to return to work before. We have a bit of a discussion and it’s decided that I leave early to go and get this note.

1615 comes along and off I go to catch my train, get a taxi, and get to the surgery before it closes.

I get my note, don’t think much of checking it, and go home.

On the way into work this morning, I figured I’d take a quick glance and fill it in, and that’s when I noticed that he’s signed me off work until the 29th July but has put in the comments section that I feel able to return to work 29th June.

Now I’m no expert on these things, and am on way into work, so I get in and give my team leader the note — long story short, there’s phone calls to the surgery and HR get involved and I’m in work for a grand total of 23 minutes. I’m signed off again, regardless of what the doctor has put in the comments section.

So off I go back to the surgery to drop off this sodding form to get it amended. Dr Garland only works the afternoons on Fridays, he’d do it when he got it.

About 3pm, I get a phone call — Dr Garland, he didn’t understand what the problem was. I explained that it was quite simple, and then he noticed his error and told me the note would be ready to collect in 5 minutes.

Well, I’m a slave to the kettle so had another cuppa before walking the 20 minutes to the surgery from home.

Get there and there’s some hoo-ha ongoing between a patient and 3 receptionists about a Dr Moore who wasn’t a doctor but a nurse, but the patient was insistent that Dr Moore was a male doctor despite the receptionists being adamant that the nurse was female. Resolution: Dr Hoare.

My turn, ask for my note — receptionist #1 couldn’t find it. It wasn’t at the desk. I’d have to wait until Dr Garland was free so she could nip in and get it.

I think ‘inconvenient’ but I wasn’t doing much other than this, so alright like, I’ll wait.

There grew some confusion over whether Dr Garland had a patient with him or not — I don’t know how this confusion arose, but the receptionist exclaimed her uncertainty loudly.

She wandered down to his room, heard talking, wandered back, and she still wasn’t satisfied. She asked receptionist #2 for advice and she also wasn’t certain so started looking for my note, couldn’t find it — I had to wait.

Still confused, receptionist #1 asked receptionist #3 (I think she was the boss lady) for her advice and Dr Garland was with a patient.

Receptionist #3 then told #1 that Dr Garland would not appreciate being disturbed because getting this note wasn’t an emergency. She had to tell me to come back Monday.

First off, I’m here! Hi! Like 5 foot away. Second off, no. No I won’t be coming back here on Monday. You’ll be going down to Dr Garland, disturbing him, pissing him off, getting my note, and then I’ll be leaving.

So I say that I was told the note was ready to collect.

Receptionist #3 said to me that Dr Garland would not appreciate being disturbed because this wasn’t an emergency, so they weren’t going to do it, simple as (she said it a bit politer). I had to come back Monday.

So I said that I didn’t appreciate having to come backwards and forwards, and that if Dr Garland had an issue with being disturbed then he should’ve done what he said he would do an hour ago.

Well, this got receptionist #3 all blustered — she was not amused. So unamused, in fact, she went off to find my note.

She found it. It was brand new and apparently less than 2 inches from where it should’ve been.

I say thank you very much, check that I’m allowed to go back to work, and leave.

I then get home, sit down, and take a better look at this note — in the comments section Dr Garland says that this note is a supplement to the note I handed in to get amended. The note that never came back to me. The note that I handed over this morning, that got written on, and is no doubt now shredded.

Luckily I took a blurred photograph of it before I handed it over to them — I’ll just have to print that off on Monday, staple the 2 notes together, and give that in.

Sorry, but that’s the best I can do.


 

All this has been an unnecessary stress.

And all day I’ve been feeling particularly shit — nauseous and wobbly. I was planning to try and ignore it had I stayed in work.

Stress = vertigo migraines. Or more the relaxation from stress, which makes me wonder what set me off first thing this morning, and then raises an additional question:

What do I do?

I can’t keep getting signed off from work.

Tai Chi, Talking Change (I’m signed up, waiting to hear back) — yes, yes but is that enough? What more should I do?

I can’t help but wonder if I’m dragging a dead donkey when I should just get a new one.

Whatever — cuppa tea, something to eat, movie, and I’ll worry about donkey corpses tomorrow.

Tomos James